Brawd cariad
by SerahFalcon
Summary: A series of drabbles on the brotherly love of OC-Wales and OC-Scotland.
1. Goodnight

Goodnight

Disclaimer: I own the oc Wales. Oc Scotland belongs to Nightmare owl.

A small boy with burnt red hair tossed fitfully in his bed. Lately he had been suffering horrible nightmares that his young mind couldn't understand. Light seeped into his room as a tall shadow fell across the boy.

"Dylan! yi''ll need tae wake up. Ye'r in a nightmare again." The older boy shook the little boy, Dylan, to wake him. Dylan continued to sleep, tossing and turning. The older boy sighed, usually just hearing his older brother's voice would wake up but the nightmares were getting stronger. Maybe if he threatened him, he would wake up?

"Dylan wake up or ah wull throw ye intae th' loch!" Nope, the little boy was still asleep. The older boy hated feeling useless and weak; and these nightmares definitely made him feel that way. He also hated seeing his precious little brother so scared. The older boy who we shall call Hamish sighed and ran a hand through his flame red hair. He promised their mother Britannia that he would look after his younger siblings but he didn't know what to do. And th' roman bas was making his way north.

"Hauld yer horses a minute cuid that be it?" Hamish whispered. Dylan represented the west tribes to the South while Arthur represented the East/Southern tribes. Could that be it? Could Dylan, as young as he was, be sensing his people's fears? If that was true, th' besom Arthur should be having nightmares as well. His harsh green eyes traveled to the next cot next Dylan's where a blonde boy was sleeping soundly. The desire to kick him out of his cot spread throughout the older redhead's body but he pushed it down. Hamish didn't really care for th' wee jimmy as he was a spoiled 'n' loud besom. He was drawn out of his thoughts as he noticed pale green eyes were staring at him.

"Whin did ye wake up?" It unnerved Hamish with just how quiet the lad could be. Dylan's eyes drifted upward as he thought.

"Mae ychydig (A few) minutes ago," Dylan quietly replied as if he hadn't just been tormented by his own mind. "'n' ye coudnae huv said something?" Hamish really couldn't understand how his wee brother thought. "Roeddech chi'n meddwl mewn gwirionedd am unwaith (You were actually thinking for once). I didn't want to ruin it." That's right, the boy was also a brat, he was just more crafty than the other one. Hamish growled in annoyance and got up to leave.

"Maent yn ofnus (They're scared). I don't want them to be scared anymore," Dylan muttered into his cot. Harsh green eyes softened at the curled up figure. Hamish sat back down on the cot and gathered the small boy into his arms.

"Dinna fash yirsel. Ye kin aye count oan me. Noo gang back tae kip. Ah will keep th' nightmares awa'," Hamish said as he laid Dylan back into his bed and brought the blanket up to his chin.

"Nos da." Pale green eyes drifted closed as Dylan drifted peacefully into the dreamworld.

"Goodnight."


	2. Sorry

A/N: This is set in an alternate universe where the nations are just people. One more thing send me one worded topics for few chapters.

Disclaimer: Again I own Dylan and Hamish belongs to Nightmare Owl and everyone else belongs to Himaruya unless I say so.

Warnings: Sibling abuse and Hamish's potty mouth

Cariad 2: Sorry

Dylan Adda Kirkland gently rubbed his bruised shoulder, courtesy of his younger brother Arthur. It wouldn't have been the first time his little brother hurt him and probably wouldn't be the last. However, it was better that Dylan be hurt instead of the twins. No one but Arthur and Dylan knew of Arthur's abuse, not their mother, the twins nor their significant others. For the last five years thing had gotten worse, it started when Hamish, Dylan's older half brother, went back to Scotland to live with his father. Actually the twins, Arthur and Dylan all had different fathers as well.

"Hey Taffy!" Dylan froze there was only one person who would call him that, and the culprit was the same person responsible for his sore shoulder. Dylan's father was Welsh and he was proud of it. Determined to ignore his younger brother he kept moving towards his school.

"Gah!" Pain flared in Dylan's head as he grabbed the back of it. He pulled his hands back to his face to see them stained with blood. Down at his feet, there was a suspicious red rock, not a pebble, a good-sized rock. Was his brother trying to kill him now? If that rock had hit him any harder or struck the wrong place, he could have ended up with a concussion or worse ended up dead.

"Don't ignore me, you bloody taffy!" Arthur reached down to throw another rock at the redhead knowing he wouldn't defend himself. Dylan closed his eyes and braced for the pain. "Let go of me you jock!" Pale green eyes flew open at the sound of Arthur grunting in pain only to lock eyes with harsh green eyes.

"Hamish." There was no mistaking that flame red hair and harsh green eyes. The cigarette was new but Dylan knew without a doubt this was his older brother Hamish.

"Whit th' hell is gaun oan 'ere?" Hamish yelled at the two, one of them stunned quiet, the other struggling to free his arm.

"Ingenting (Nothing)." Dylan turned back toward his school. "Dylan, stop. Ye cannae gang tae schuil lik' that. Yer neck is hoaching with blood." Hamish was definitely worried about his little brother. Dylan was always quiet, especially for a Kirkland but now he seemed to be even more withdrawn and Hamish would bet his favorite lighter that it had something to do with the blonde struggling in his grip.

"Ye gang tae schuil 'n' ye come wi' me. We need tae treat that wound." Arthur looked ready to argue but a green eyed glared sent him running towards the school. Ten minutes later they were back at the Kirkland Estate with Hamish ordering a maid to go get the first aid kit and a wetrag. Hamish lead Dylan to a stool and forced him to sit.

"Lose th' sark." Dylan gave him a look that showed a little irritation and worry. Worry for what Hamish didn't know and he didn't care, all that mattered was stopping the blood coming from Dylan's head.

"Brawd mawr (big brother) has become a pervert while he was away."

"Haud yer wheesht 'n' tak' aff yer sark sae it doesn't git drookit." Hamish was two seconds away from smacking Dylan upside the head. The only thing stopping him was someone already beat him to it. Dylan shrugged slipping out of his blazer and pulling off his stained dress shirt. Harsh green eyes widened in shock as an furious scowl grew on his face. His little brother was covered in bruises and scars, the newest bruise seemed to be on his shoulder.

"Did Arthur dae that tae ye?" Dylan spared him a quick glance before letting his blazer and dress shirt drop unceremoniously to the floor.

"Most of them, mae rhai ohonynt yn (some of them) are from his friends." Dylan souned off, he talked as if the bruises were on someone else.

"Whin did this stairt happening? 'n' how come hasn't a' body stopped it?" Okay so Hamish was more then a little pissed right now.

"Nobody knew and nobody would believe me even if I told them or showed them. Arthur is the golden boy," That figured; their mother was a kind woman but she had spoiled Arthur horribly given that he was the youngest, "it started about five years ago."

The maid had returned with the items Hamish had requested. It made sense, though, Hamish was the only person Arthur was afraid of. So with him gone, Arthur had been given free reign over the house, including his siblings.

"A'm sorry fur leaving ye alone wi' him." Hamish for once muttered quietly.

"Mae gennych unrhyw beth i fod yn flin am." Dylan hissed as the wetrag touched his injured head. Hamish made a silent vow as he treated his little brother that Arthur would not get away with this. No one messed with his little brother, especially not his spoiled rotten littlest brother.


	3. Death

Disclaimer: Still don't own hetalia or Scotland.

Chapter 3: Death

The sky was entirely to bright Hamish thought as he glared at the clear blue sky. Rain would fit the mood much better. Today was the day of his mother's funeral. He was only seven years old and he had four younger siblings to take care of. He was just a kid himself. He was busy glaring at the ground when he felt an insistent tugging at his hand.

"Brawd mawr, are you okay? You look like you are about to cry." He did want to cry but he was head of the family now. He couldn't be weak in front of his siblings.

"A'm braw, Dylan. Save yer worry for yerself." He flinched when he realized how cutting his words were. He was probably taking his stress and fear out on Dylan, but the little boy was back to ignoring him. Only Hamish and Dylan were at the funeral, the others being to young to come. Th' twins 'n' Arthur had not stopped crying wanting their mother, but then again the three of them were toddlers and didn't understand what was going on. Now that he thought about Dylan hadn't cried at all not even when they found their mother dead.

"Dylan urr ye okay?" The little boy glanced at him before pursing his lips in his "I'm thinking" face.

"Rwy'n iawn. If I cried, Mam would be sad. Besides, " Dylan got that sneaky little look on his face that always made Hamish worry about what he was up to, "if I cried, brawd mawr would start crying too. And then where would we be?"

Hamish loved his little brother, really he did. But there were times he did want to punch him. The scot's eyes drifted back to where his mother laid and saw they were getting ready to start the pyre. He shouldn't be feeling this way, they already had their time of mourning plus many games and feast were held for his mother so why wasn't he ready to let go? The pyre was ablaze before he knew it. He felt Dylan's hand tighten around his. He was turned to yell at the little boy that he didn't need comfort and was fine, but froze. Dylan hadn't tightened his hand to comfort Hamish, he had tightened because he wanted comfort. The proof was in the tears falling down his cheeks.

Hamish's mind flashed back to the past week, each time Dylan tried to talk to him one of the toddlers would start to cry and Hamish would have to take care of them before turning to Dylan, only to get a "Mae'n ddim," in answer. He sometimes forgot Dylan was only five, given how he acted, but of course he too would need comfort. He hugged his little brother close, stroking the burnt red hair as the little boy sobbed into his chest.

"Neist time, tell me whin yer sad. Even if yin o' th' toddlers ur greetin', ah will tak' care o' ye foremaist, especially if tis Arthur greetin'."

Dylan nodded before hiccuping. Hamish resolved himself to be more watchful of Dylan so that this wouldn't happen again. Beside the only reason he was taking care of Arthur was because he looked like their mother, if he hadn't he would have already given him to the Roman bastard. So if the Arthur had to cry for a while as Hamish made sure to take care of Dylan, then Arthur could, it wouldn't kill him.


	4. Relationships

Chapter 4: Relationships

Disclaimer: The only thing I own is Wales sort of. I don't own the picture I based him off of.

Dylan Adda Kirkland was physically 24 years old, but there were times he felt like an old man. But that wasn't surprising given he had been around for a long time. This was one those times.

His day started relatively normal. For once the sun was actually shining. All of his sheep were taken care of and so was his paperwork. It had been a while since he had a free day like this so why not take advantage of it? Usually if Lloegr found out he had nothing to do, he tried to give him more to do. And his boss was still avoiding him after that last prank.

Next thing he knew he was walking up the path that led towards a hidden mountain trail. Not even Hamish knew about this trail. Why had he never told Hamish about this trail? Oh that's right by the time Dylan had discovered it, he was under the control of the Roman. That stupid wall kept Dylan in what would be Wales and Hamish in Scotland.

Dylan never really understood why the Roman wanted him. Once Cymru and Lloegr were under the Roman's control, the Roman basically focused on Lloegr, thinking that mountains in the west were useless for anything. So that gave Dylan freedom to run wild, unfortunately this was the start of his and Arthur's major differences. The Roman taught Arthur to fear the "barbarians" to the west, while Dylan thought his little brother was a major suck-up. Then the brat conquered him in the 1200's over a marriage.

Why was he wasting his free day thinking about Arthur? He shoved the stupid blonde from his mind. He was still walking along the path, getting higher and farther up the mountain. His thoughts drifted to the twins. He really couldn't say he had a good relationship with North Ireland but he also couldn't say he had a bad relationship with him either. If Dylan had to describe it one word he would probably go with tolerate. He didn't hate North Ireland, they just didn't really have anything in common.

Dylan mostly got along with Ireland, except for when her split personality came out. When that usually happened Dylan started getting annoyed with her. Which wasn't a normal reaction when it came to a dangerous split-personality, but Dylan wasn't normal in most of his reactions anyway so why start now?

That brought Dylan to his last sibling, Hamish. There were many ways he could describe what Hamish had been to him: a father-figure when they were children, a best friend, and an overly protective older brother. Dylan would have to be completely blind and deaf, not to mention an idiot if he didn't notice his brother had a bit of a complex for him. Well maybe more than a bit but whatever.

He stopped thinking when he realized he was at the end of trail in a clearing. He laid on his back directly in the center of the clearing staring up at the blue sky. The weather was extremely nice for Wales and Dylan was determined to stay in his little sanctuary away from the modern world.

Here in mountains Dylan could almost see himself as a child running freely and wildly as if he was a part of the forest itself. This was his true home. Dylan was almost positive none of his siblings would understand, maybe Hamish would given that he had the Highlands. It was so peaceful here.

"Dylan! thare yer, A've bin keekin fur ye." The loud voice startled Dylan awake. He must have a fallen asleep in the quietness.

"How did you find this place," Dylan racked his brain trying to remember if he had ever told Hamish about this place. He was almost completely positive he had never said anything about this place, "did I tell you about the path?"

The red-head grinned, pulling out a cigarette even though he had just hiked up a mountain, "dinnae ye ken? ah kin aye fin' ye."

The younger one's face twisted in shock before he curled up clutching his stomach laughing. The older brother twitched in annoyance, but there was a gleam in his eyes that showed happiness at seeing his younger brother laugh is heart out.

"Whit urr ye laughing at?"

"Every time you open your mouth, you sound like a pervert." Dylan laughed even harder when Hamish started choking on his cigarette. Once he stopped almost dieing, Hamish gave Dylan that look which Dylan knew to be 'you're a brat'.

"Ah cam keekin fur ye fur Arthur wis keekin fur ye. Something aboot ye slacking aff." A barely suppressed groan left his lips, he knew it.

"I'm not slacking off. I finished all my paperwork for today and I am enjoying the few sunny days I actually get."

A thump at his side let him know that Hamish had joined him on the ground. Now that Dylan thought about it, he wouldn't trade the relationships he had with his siblings for anything but he would admit he would trade Arthur for anything.


End file.
